


Interlude IX

by AnnetheCatDetective



Series: Interludes [9]
Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23648317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: After the weekend at Aldous', another glimpse at the slow unfolding of the thing between Glen and Aldous, via another boy talk session with Glen.
Relationships: Glen Scott/Aldous Germaine, Jack Walker/Llewellyn Watts
Series: Interludes [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679167
Comments: 33
Kudos: 32





	Interlude IX

Monday, Glen finds him. Not that he’s hard to find, he’s in his shop and it’s coming up on his lunch hour. 

“Running Aldous’ errands?” Jack greets. He’s wrapping up a package for Paul to take home to his family, and Glen leans against the counter and waits, tight-lipped, until Paul has headed out.

“I need someone to talk to.” He says.

“Flip the sign.” Jack nods, wiping his hands. “What is it?”

“The other night, when you and Llewellyn stayed with us?” Glen goes ahead and throws the lock as well, though he doesn’t draw the shades before coming back to lean against the counter again.

“Yes?”

“How did it go, for you? I mean, was it what you needed?”

This… isn’t what he thinks Glen wants to ask, but it seems as if he needs to ease himself into the conversation.

“We had a lovely time.”

“How’s your man?”

“In bed or in general?” Jack raises an eyebrow. “He’s good.”

“In bed or in general?” Glen leans in further, though his playful grin is something of a shadow of its usual self. Jack politely pretends not to notice, just gives him a smirk and a shake of the head. “Did you try anything really wild, or is it just that he’s not used to any of it?”

“What makes you think we weren’t wild before?”

“Your thin walls, for one. The fact that I can’t imagine you at the kind of clubs where people get really wild, for another.”

The thing is… he really is tempted to talk about that night-- and the following morning. He’s never experienced anything like what he’d found with Llewellyn. Not only the sex, though it had been something else, Llewellyn had been something else, but what it had been to prepare him. To bathe him and relax him, to gently go over him with a soapy cloth, rinse him… and though it had at first been mortifying to explain the necessary personal preparation, Llewellyn hadn’t found it so mortifying, in the end-- he’d simply trusted everything to Jack, no matter how intimate. That trust had been… something.

Llewellyn deserves his privacy-- to not be bragged about like some conquest!-- but there must be some middle ground, some amount of their relationship he wouldn’t mind Jack bragging about a little, in a loving way. He doesn’t know how he can keep it all inside him.

“Llew… he’s just… Well-- first, his body is perfect.”

“If you like them on the skinny side.”

“He’s perfect where it counts. Oh, lord, don’t give me that look, I am talking about muscle, not-- not _that_. Not that it’s _im_ perfect, but-- it’s not important right now. I just mean… he runs.”

“He runs?”

“For sport, for exercise, he runs, he’s… His _legs_ are…” His legs are not the only feature Jack thinks are much improved by the habit, but he’s not used to talking about the physical side of things. He doesn’t know where to begin-- he doesn’t trust himself to stop at the right places. “I’m mad about them. And the rest of him.”

“All right, all right. So he has hidden charms, especially in the leg department.” Glen chuckles. “And he’d never been buggered before last weekend.”

“Glen, when you were a child, someone should have told you to stop, just once.” 

“Too late now.” He flashes his most charming smile, and laughs when Jack remains impassive. “It’s true, though. I mean… that’s the thing you hadn’t done before?”

“I’m not airing every intimate detail to you, thank you.”

“Air one thing, then. Come on, you’re dying to. The best thing about the weekend.”

How could he name one best thing? It all flows together and every moment had been bliss, from Llewellyn laying against him in the bath, to preparing him-- beyond that, to fingering him just because he could, and because Llewellyn was enjoying it-- to finding himself inside him for the first time, to feeling and hearing him loving every moment… to making love to him in the morning able to watch the pleasure on his face, to seeing him finish without a single touch to his cock, just from Jack inside him… 

“The best thing… When I’m with him, he gives me something-- not like you’re thinking, I mean… he’s like a tiger. I _mean_ …” Jack groans. “Llewellyn… when he’s out in the world, he’s like that-- he’s cagey, and he’s wild, and he’s free. He’s… solitary, in a way, and guarded, and… there’s something in him that’s coiled so tight. But when he comes home to me, he’s my lamb. He gives me the parts of himself that the rest of the world never sees, that no one else is allowed to touch, and he lets me take care of him. He’s so strong, and he’s been so self-reliant for so long, but he comes to me and he gives me that. Do you know, the first night he came to me, he told me every bad point he has? We disagree on some of them. But… he’s not afraid to let me see his worst and his weakest. He puts so much faith in me sometimes… He put so much faith in me on the day we _met_ , and I was-- I looked good for a _murder_ then. He allows me to be the one who sees him when he’s vulnerable, and to… to protect him in the ways I can. I don’t know if I’m as suited to protecting as he is, but he gives me the space to _try_. He lets me feel like a man. He comes to my place after a long day of police work sometimes and I cook his dinner and he never lets me feel like that makes me the little wife, he… he makes me know that I’m strong for him and he needs that from me.”

“That’s really beautiful.” Glen reaches over, squeezing his arm. 

“What did you really come to talk about?”

For a long moment, Glen doesn’t say. He pushes off from the counter and paces in front of it, until whatever it is builds to the point he can’t keep it in any longer.

“I almost kissed Aldous!” He blurts out.

“You _what_?”

“It’s all right, he doesn’t know. Gods, can you imagine?”

Jack can, of course, and it would solve a lot of problems for everyone, but somehow Glen still has no idea Aldous is batty for him and Jack’s put himself in the position of having promised not to end everyone’s misery by telling him.

“What happened?” He asks.

“You two went upstairs. We moved into the parlor and put a record on, and had another drink, and then another-another drink, talked about… I don’t know, nothing much. I dealt another hand, we played cards a little while we-- well, drank. Until we started fumbling them and paying less attention to the game anyway. We were laughing-- just, I don’t know, trading funny stories, and changing the record every once in a while, and… I asked him to dance. It was just to pass the time, keep the music going and find things to do to give you more privacy upstairs, and-- and we were tipsy enough-- Aldous is so _fair_ , a couple drinks and he goes all rosy and I… I could imagine it was for me. And I’ve been… it hasn’t felt right, to… to sleep around with someone, while I’m staying at his. If I stayed out all night, he’d worry, and it would be cruel to bring someone home and… and fuck some boy in the room next to his, when he’s given all that up. I mean I tell him he doesn’t have to, he could have somebody. Hell, he-- So we’re attempting a very clumsy waltz. More than a little bit tipsy. And suddenly it’s like… I realize I’m holding a man in my arms, and I could imagine he was blushing because of me, because of something charming I’d said, or because I’d asked him, because he was suddenly finding himself in a man’s arms and liked it. And we’d been laughing, and I just… I had the strongest urge to, I don’t know how I got through the song without spoiling it all kissing him.”

“You…” Jack struggles to find any way of finishing that sentence. He can’t say ‘of course it was for you, you buffoon’, and it would be cruel of him to say ‘I can’t believe you were a detective’, but he really had expected Glen to catch on by now, and to either do something about it, or to politely ignore it, depending. “Do you _want_ to kiss Aldous? Sober, I mean.”

“I could do a lot worse. You know… Owen tried to set us up, once.”

“ _What_?”

“He had some idea that Aldous needed to get… taken care of. They’d been arguing about something silly, and he said someone had to convince him to give up on celibacy because it clearly didn’t suit him, and then he was introducing us and… I think he did believe he’d be doing him a favor, it wasn’t just to make his own life easier. But he’d thought I could convince him, and… I don’t know, back then I wasn’t looking for…”

“For something serious?”

“You know me. I mean I give serious a shot every now and then, but… maybe I never expect it to last. And it would have been cruel to ask a man to break a vow of celibacy for me and then not be able to stick around for the long haul. And maybe it still is. But he doesn’t have to be lonely. If he’s fallen in love, he should… You know what the problem is?”

Jack shakes his head, though he suspects one problem may be that Glen is beginning to find himself jealous of his imaginary competition.

“He thinks he’s so unattractive.” Glen sighs.

“And you think he’s… attractive.”

“I don’t think he’s unattractive! Not the way he thinks. I mean… ‘handsome’ is just… Everyone is a mix of handsome and unhandsome features, and if you have more handsome ones, people say you’re, on the whole, handsome, and if you have more unhandsome ones, you work to be charming. But Aldous isn’t bad looking. Or… he has… features I like looking at.”

“Glen…”

“What? Oh, no. No.” He shakes his head.

“ _Glen_.”

“I was drunk--”

“Earlier you were ‘tipsy’.”

“More than a little. And you know I have a weakness for redheads! And these things happen when you’re dancing, sometimes. He’s-- Admittedly, I think he has… he has warm eyes. And when he smiles, really smiles-- and I think he has a nice nose.”

“His _nose_?”

“It’s distinguished. It makes up for his chin, in profile.”

“Look, I don’t think Aldous is bad-looking, by any means. I think you’re right about his eyes being warm and I think he has a wonderful smile. I think he’s among the best men I know. But… I’ve never almost kissed him. And I don’t know that I think much about his profile.”

“Well I didn’t say I think much about it. Don’t look at me like that, I don’t! Only--” Glen winces. “Don’t tell him I said his chin needs making up for. He’d… I mean he doesn’t have a strong chin, but I think it’s--”

“You think it’s…?”

“There is not a romance, between Aldous and I.” He folds his arms. “There never has been. We are friends, we… for the foreseeable future, I suppose I live with him. I’m very _fond_ of Aldous, I can hardly be blamed for finding the face I see each morning over the breakfast table pleasant, nor do I think it’s a bad thing. I’m not pining for him!”

“I never said a word. Have you eaten?”

Glen waves a hand. “It was just the dancing, and the… the light on his hair, you know, that weakness. Which has nothing to do with Aldous and I, if I’d had another redhead in my arms I’d have been just as tempted. And-- the shape of his upper lip, is… it’s just the shape of that lip, which would be very kissable, the bow of it. And how pink… That’s the thing, with those ginger boys, you know. So much pink…”

“I’m aware.” Jack rolls his eyes. “I used to be one.”

“You turn back into one, sometimes, with enough sun.”

“I can’t say as I have ever noticed the shape of Aldous’ lips.”

“His upper lip.”

“What’s wrong with his lower lip?”

“Gods, nothing.” Glen groans, and then catches himself. “Look, it’s not a secret I would sleep with him, but that’s-- I mean, you know me, I’d sleep with anyone, if he asked me. Half the men I know, doubtless half the men I don’t. I’m not in love with a man who doesn’t want me.”

“No. You’re not.” Jack sighs. “I’ll give you one thing, you’re too smart for that. Most of us don’t get to outsmart love.”

“Well, I do. I’m not about to do something as low as try and bed an avowed celibate just because I like his hair.”

“And his upper lip.”

“And his lips.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, but Glen doesn’t notice. He’s off on another tear, pacing in front of the counter. He doesn’t notice Jack going into the back, and doesn’t seem to notice his absence, until he comes back in and pushes a sandwich into his hand.

“Come on, you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t need to be fed.”

“You can eat, or I can keep asking you about why you’re thinking so much about Aldous’ lips, it’s your choice.” Jack shrugs. “When did you begin noticing them? Have they been on your mind much this morning? Or all of yesterday, even? Do they ever feature in your dreams? When you dream of kissing him--”

Glen glares at him and takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Better?”

“No.” He swallows. “And I don’t dream of kissing him. Pest. Tell me about your tiger again. Or your lamb, or whatever animal he is.”

“He’s a tiger, but he’s not _my_ tiger. He’s _my_ lamb.” Jack sighs. “He’s… perfect. He’s perfect for me. And I like things about him…” He smiles, sly. “Like his nose, and the shape of his lips-- sorry, is it the upper lip only, or is it both?”

“ _Pest_.”

“Ass. Anyway, I _do_ actually like his nose. It’s a handsome nose-- it’s a kissable nose. And he… smiles at me, sometimes, and it _hurts_ , it hurts to look at him loving me and-- and seeing the way he still can’t believe someone loves him. But I love him so much. If you knew… if you knew everything he’s been through and how little he’s ever even thought to complain, and everything about the kind of man he is…”

“Then I’d be in love with him, too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t care for brunets. And you wouldn’t be foolish enough to fall in love with a man who wouldn’t want you. And the best man in the world is in love with me.” He leans back against the counter, tilting his head back with a grin. “He loves me. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.”

“I’m happy for you. You always wanted this. Someone to dote on.”

“He lets me dote on him. He comes by sometimes at lunch.” He lifts his head to check that Llewellyn isn’t outside-- with the blinds open, he could get their attention and be let in, if he came by. But of course his schedule might not allow, if he’s working. “He lets me feed him. And… when he said we had somewhere to be, Sunday? He… he took me to meet a friend of his, who’s in the theatre. Showed me off.”

“Oh.” Glen laughs. “And is this friend…?”

“No. This friend is-- I’ve come to understand-- far too interested in women. And _young_ , Glen. Llewellyn used to mentor him. He… he only knows a couple of people he could… he could be himself around. People I could meet, when… Well, you know how we met. Most of the people he knows are work friends at best, he… he can never bring me around them as a friend, or they might suspect, and they wouldn’t understand. But… he showed me off the other day.”

“Showing off’s nice. Or, getting shown off. That’s one nice thing about going for something serious… when you go to a party with someone and you feel how proud he is to be on your arm for an evening. When you dance with other people just to be polite, but you wish you could spend the whole night holding each other, where people will see he’s all yours, and you’re all his. I always liked that part.”

“I never would have guessed.” Jack says drily. “When you were with… August? You two would come around to small gatherings just so you could _drape_ yourself over him like you wanted to stake a claim on the man’s lap at all times.”

“You’re one to talk, what about the last book club? That man’s head in your lap like it belonged there.”

“It does.” He grins. “Is it strange, that I like him there?”

“With his head in your lap? I don’t think so.”

“Kneeling like that… at my feet, while I sit, and he… I don’t know.” His face heats. “He’s sweet about it, that’s all. If I play with his hair, and he can just… relax, and I like that. I like helping him relax, and I like how it feels just running my fingers through his hair. I like the way he looks up at me. He looks at me like I… I don’t know sometimes. But he has this little smile, when he’s there, and I think… if I make him happy, that’s good enough for me. He deserves that much. We both do.”

“You do.” Glen nods.

“You deserve to make someone happy, too, you know. Maybe… let a man make you happy.”

“Sure. If a man offers to try, I might just say yes. But… it’s funny, I think-- I think I am happy. Isn’t that the worst? I lost everything, and for the first time in my life I feel-- mostly-- like I wake up every day with a song in my heart. Now that is the most disgusting thing you’ve ever heard, isn’t it? I just feel _happy_ every day, and it’s not because my new job is so hot, and it’s not because of a man, because my bed’s been empty these past weeks. But I feel like I could do anything nowadays.”

“I don’t think that’s disgusting.” Jack laughs. He doesn’t think it’s entirely unrelated to a man, either, but he doesn’t say so. He’d expected Glen to sort the Aldous problem out by now and come to some understanding, but… he’s blinded by his own side of things. 

Anyway, even if Aldous makes him happy just by doing a dozen odd little daily things which have nothing to do with going to bed with him, even just by his being present, that’s only a small part of it, next to the freedom of having thought his life was destroyed only to come out the other side. And better for it, in some ways. When he handed in his badge, saw the destruction of the safe haven Owen used to provide, faced the idea of saying private goodbyes to a man who could not be publicly mourned, he couldn’t have imagined himself living in a big, fancy house, going to a new job where his expertise as a former detective garners him a good deal of respect, making a new circle of friends...

“I think it’s pretty bad.” Glen chuckles. “Ye gods, ordinary people must feel this way all the time, like nothing’s very wrong in the world. Like living is… safe.”

“Don’t worry.” He pats his shoulder. “It’ll pass.”

“Thank goodness for that, I don’t know how to sustain this kind of breezy sense of security out in the world. But… I don’t mind feeling happy at home. I could get used to being happy at home, if I had to.”

“I really hope you have to.”


End file.
